Miquella conversed in silence with Trina, keeping himself informed of his sister's situation, Gandalf's movements, and the general state of the Elven Realm.
Tauriel had gone to report the events to her King, expecting some form of reproach or explanation. However, Thranduil had already agreed with Miquella on how to handle the situation, so the elf received no answer that could ease her conscience. Ultimately, she returned to the infirmary.
There she found Miquella lying down once more, his back bare and covered in the poultices applied by the healers. The wounds were more visible than they were grave; the demigod had already healed a good portion of them, and the initial damage had only been so severe due to the kinetic energy absorption experiment.
Still, the guilt did not fade.
Reluctantly, obeying her King's orders once again, she picked up the boy—apparently asleep—and carried him carefully back to his cell. She could not understand why someone who seemed so innocent had to be treated with such harshness… but she had no choice.
What disturbed her most was how docile she felt in eventually accepting this task, as if her will were not entirely her own. She did not notice—could not notice—the illusory figure of Trina draped around her neck.
As they passed the cells, the insults from the dwarves erupted with more force than ever. They had spent hours shouting, demanding answers, worrying for Miquella, and trying to force their way out while calling for Leda—who remained locked away without fully grasping what had occurred. Seeing Tauriel carrying the demigod again, they seemed to regain their strength only to discharge their fury upon her. Insults in multiple tongues echoed through the halls, each more aggressive than the last.
Tauriel endured them all in silence, her head bowed, offering no response. She felt she deserved them.
After settling Miquella onto the bed in his cell, she lingered at the door for a moment, observing him, lost in thought. Then she left. She lacked the strength to continue listening to the dwarves' cries.
The dwarves remained restless even after Tauriel's departure, now shouting toward Leda's cell, demanding she do something. They did not understand why the Elden Knight remained idle, yet they insisted.
It wasn't necessary. Leda had already slipped out to see her lord.
And to the dwarves' further confusion, after a time, she returned in complete silence. She avoided their gazes, hid a slight blush, and locked herself back in her cell without answering a single question or shout.
Leda was now certain of one thing: her master was having fun. In a crude way, perhaps even beneath his position… but having fun nonetheless. What unsettled her now was the possibility that, in the future, he might make her participate in that kind of "fun." She did not know what role she would play, and that uncertainty completely occupied her mind, making it easy to ignore the dwarves.
...
In the forest, the battle intensified.
Malenia's blade, bolstered by Miquella's power, had become a devastating weapon. So much so that the creature began to respond with increasingly chaotic and dangerous attacks. The Scarlet Rot expanded rapidly, covering every open space. The struggle of the Eldens and the elves against the contaminated creatures grew more difficult by the moment.
Malenia, however, did not need to worry about that. Her blessed blade absorbed the Scarlet Rot, protecting her while she exploited every opening to strike, leaving more and more gashes upon her enemy.
But the battle could not drag on indefinitely. Eldens and elves were beginning to be outnumbered. Even while performing exceptionally, the situation was unsustainable. Even Malenia could feel her strength beginning to wane. And the Rot… it had not yet shown its full power.
After analyzing the battle to this point, Malenia made a decision. Her stance shifted completely, as if she were about to give everything.
She leaped to the side just as the stinger pierced the spot where she had been a moment before, and immediately retraced her steps to latch onto the creature's tail.
The stinger retracted sharply, carrying Malenia with it. In mid-air, her sword traced a powerful arc, aiming for the tip of the stinger as she let go.
Two figures fell from above. One was the severed tip of the stinger, drawing a shriek from the beast even as the wound began to regenerate—a process slightly hindered by Miquella's residual power. The other was Malenia, who descended directly onto the scorpion's body.
She landed on the massive chitinous back and held on firmly despite the creature's sudden and erratic movements. Immediately, she began to leap and shift to avoid the lashes of the mutilated tail, which struck its own body in uncontrolled fury. To anyone else, moving like that and remaining unscathed would have been an admirable feat.
But that was not the truly remarkable part. Malenia had a goal.
While dodging and bracing herself to avoid being thrown into the void, she advanced toward the head without stopping. The scorpion's spasms were so violent that a single mistake would send her flying, but Malenia allowed nothing to separate her from her purpose.
Until the final instant. She used one of those convulsive movements to propel herself. To those watching, everything seemed to slow down.
The scorpion's back arched violently, and Malenia shot forward, gripping her blade with both hands. In the air, she reached the height of the monster's head and, as if gravity had suddenly intensified, she plummeted.
The wind whistled with a cutting sound.
—GGGHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrr…—
The beast howled in fury and pain as Malenia's sword sank halfway into the top of its skull. Its movements became even more violent as it tried to shake her off, but it was futile. Malenia had a target and she had no intention of letting go.
The blade glowed with an intense golden light, appearing to suck a red essence from the wound, its brilliance increasing with every second. The scorpion's tail moved swiftly, striking her with a brutal impact. But Malenia only shifted for an instant before reasserting her grip on the sword. The blows continued, one after another. Her armor began to buckle, her body filled with wounds, but nothing could tear her away.
She knew it was dangerous. She knew it was an extreme risk. But she trusted her brother. Trina's voice, explaining certain truths to her long ago, echoed in her mind before she made this choice.
The sword continued to consume the creature, devouring the Scarlet Rot. However, it did not do so simply. If it merely absorbed and dissipated it, the power Miquella had left in the blade would soon be exhausted. That was not what was happening. The sword was functioning as a conduit.
It sucked in the Scarlet Rot, partially processed it, and transmitted it directly into Malenia.
It was devastating for her. It destroyed her interior slowly. But it was also the reason she could withstand so many blows and remain standing. The Scarlet Rot itself healed her wounds even as it worsened her internal state. And Malenia accepted that price.
The cries of the creature, forcibly drained, became increasingly desperate. It roared and thrashed against the ground with savage violence, striking itself in a frantic attempt to dislodge the lifedrinker embedded in its skull. But, bit by bit, that fury began to dim.
The intensity of its movements slowed until it reached an evident point where the once-devastating attacks became slower… clumsier… controllable.
The elves and Eldens fighting the other creatures noticed it immediately. They no longer needed to dodge large-scale attacks with the same urgency, and the clouds of Scarlet Rot stopped spreading as far as before. It was a bitter relief: two elves had already fallen, caught by those emanations and slain by the contaminated beasts.
The Eldens would have also lost Thiollier had it not been for the intervention of Trina, who had observed the battle in silence. Her influence on the physical world was minimal, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to protect Miquella's servants at the precise moment.
The scorpion creature grew heavier and heavier. Even Malenia felt it: the tail still striking her no longer carried the same force, and the regeneration of the stinger and other wounds had stopped entirely… it was even beginning to worsen.
Finally, a dull thud echoed across the battlefield. The beast's colossal body collapsed as its weakened legs lost all strength. Even so, Malenia did not release the sword buried in its skull.
Without the interference of the greater beast, and gathering their strength one last time, the Eldens and elves finished off the remaining contaminated creatures.
After a time, the battlefield fell almost silent, broken only by the exhausted gasps of the warriors. The great beast lay motionless on the ground, losing its color until it turned almost white. Parts of its body began to crumble, turning to ash, with no trace of life or Scarlet Rot remaining.
Malenia's sword was also fading. Its golden glow weakened visibly, as if it had made one last effort before extinguishing. When no sign of resistance remained, Malenia pulled the sword out with a single tug.
But she could barely remain standing. She staggered… and fell from the beast's body to the ground.
There was no time to celebrate the victory. There were losses. Everyone was exhausted. And now they saw that Malenia was not getting up.
The Eldens rushed toward her, only to find the crimson-haired demigoddess trembling as if suffering from extreme cold. Parts of her body oozed putrid red blood. She did not respond—not like someone unconscious, but like someone trapped in an internal torment.
Malenia's body was now saturated with Scarlet Rot, charged with energy and power as if she had returned to her prime. But that power fought her from within.
In an instinctive—or perhaps conscious—movement, Malenia suddenly jerked awake, grabbed her sword (still showing remnants of that heavily deteriorated golden glow), and drove it into herself in a non-lethal area.
Then she fell unconscious once more.
Neither elves nor Eldens understood what had just happened, but that act had been the correct one. Outwardly, the only visible change was that the oozing wounds began to lessen in intensity. Inwardly, Miquella's remaining power achieved a temporary suppression of the Scarlet Rot—just enough to tip the scales and create a fragile balance between Malenia and the corruption.
Perhaps it would only be for a short time, but it would give her a chance to fight for stability and allow her to recover.
With no other option, and unwilling to interfere with whatever was happening, the Eldens and elves decided to transport her without removing the sword. They improvised a stretcher with branches and placed her carefully upon it. They also gathered the bodies of the two fallen elves.
Then they departed back to the Elven Realm at maximum speed. With a single hope in mind:
That Miquella might still save Malenia… from whatever was happening to her.